Artist, Writer

First memories thoughts

So have been writing of first memories then I turned back to the kind of point of it all. You can’t conclude at a beginning so I write somewhere else the following below as an aside.

There were many memories like this. What was the good of telling them? In some ways they give an insight into other attitudes that grew out of them. The way some people live in a state of shock so deep they are silenced at an outburst of cruelty. The cruelty reaches back into their first memories. They will see the punch delivered and the person cowering in shock and they will feel a deep shock and emptiness. It is almost as though they see through the violence and see all violence as a pointless assertion. As an assertion that really never dominates as what really dominates is money and peoples greed for it. Bombs seem to be dropped every day somewhere. If they dropped money there would be more aggression. In a way though they are dropping money. If you can think of the money that goes into making a bomb it seems clear.

The people walking around were having a good time and were making the most of their lives. They were working and trying to get ahead. These wayward youth though were just looking for trouble never considering their own futures or anybody else. What made them like this? It isn’t just subcultures. It comes down to their hearts. They felt empty. They were empty and money was just a sign. Money was a symbol. A symbol on a t-shirt or socks that meant they had something. Really though they had no real symbols of happiness or contentment. The truth was he was frustrated. Everything seemed frustrating. He felt he had nobody to turn to or talk to. He felt lonely and collective stupidity was an open door. A revolving one too.